


Taking Away the Shame

by Pretending2BeMe



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M, Thoughts & Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6389092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretending2BeMe/pseuds/Pretending2BeMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all really. A little slice of emotion mixed with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Away the Shame

**Author's Note:**

> Umm... I'm not really sure how to describe this one. It's a bit deep and introspective. Anyway...make of it what you will. xxx

Richard always felt ashamed after sex.  It wasn’t some sort of pseudo-Freudian shame about what he’d done; it was a shame that came from his almost desperate need to be held afterwards.  It was as if the intensity of orgasm stripped him, leaving his soul raw and exposed; and being held by his partner gave him the protection he needed to reinstate his boundaries.  However, he couldn’t help feeling that his need for comfort took away his masculinity and made him weak and feeble; something that he’d spent his whole life proving he wasn’t.

With girls it easy to hide; his experience being that they liked to cuddle afterwards so he could get his security without the added embarrassment of asking for it.  But sleeping with blokes was a whole other kettle of fish; he’d only done it three times and each of those times it was unthinking, accidental.

The first time it happened, he was in college, with someone he thought he loved and he thought loved him back.  But when he’d reached for him in the quivering aftermath, he’d been shoved away and laughed at. Things turned sour pretty fast and Richard had shagged his way round town for a while, trying to show the world he was as tough as the next man.

The second time had been a few years later, he was drunk and the guy was a nameless random who punched him in the face.

After that, Richard would consciously withdraw; either putting actual physical distance between him and his partner until his desire for contact disappeared or he would fight his urge to come by switching his brain elsewhere.  He much preferred being thought of as the bloke that couldn’t finish than the big Jessie that wanted a cuddle.

The third time had been the worst though.  Of all the people in the entire world that he could have wrapped his arms around and snuggled up to, he had to go and choose Mr. ‘Don’t Touch It’ himself – James May.

It happened the first time they had sex – well, the first time they _made love_ ; their actual first time had been a feverish coupling over the bonnet of James’ Ferrari – and by the time Richard realised what he’d done, it was too late.  To his credit though, James hadn’t said a thing; he’d just laid there in silence, one hand held loosely between his shoulder blades whilst Richard squeezed his ribs and intertwined their legs.

Richard had fully expected some kind of fall-out afterwards but it didn’t come.  The morning after, James was as normal ever, making Marmite toast and complaining about the amount of time Richard took to get ready before sticking some music on and driving them both to work exactly as he had for the last how-ever-many years.

Oddly, it was this that had bothered Richard the most.  Knowing James as he did, he was certain that he would have absolutely _hated_ having him so close.  He just wished that James would bring it up; demand an explanation - take the piss even - so that he could apologise, fabricate a lie about it being a one-off and swear that he’s never hug him again.  The fact that James said nothing at all made it a giant elephant that Richard couldn’t shake off.

Which was why now, two weeks later; he found himself naked and on his knees in the centre of James’ bed with his eyes tight shut, silently counting backwards from a thousand in a desperate attempt to keep himself from coming; to stop himself from making an even bigger prick of himself than he had already.

Somewhere around four hundred and fifty, Richard became aware that James’ grip on his cock had stilled and he was whispering his name.  Biting his bottom lip, Richard opened his eyes and braced for impact.

Instead of recriminations, James just smiled and ran his free hand up the back of Richard’s neck.  Pressing their foreheads together, he whispered, “Relax, it’s alright.  Just let it go.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” breathed Richard as he pulled away.

Trying again, James slid his hand downwards to lie in the centre of Richard’s back.  Holding him steady, he said, “It’s ok.  Whatever you need, I’ve got you; I promise.”

Richard couldn’t quite believe James’ words – there was no way he could possibly understand, but glancing upwards, he saw the look in James’ eyes and he knew them to be true. 

Shuffling forwards, he felt James’ arm tighten around him as his other hand began a slow, gentle slide that took him right where he longed to go.

Afterwards, as Richard sat cocooned in James’ strong arms, he felt no shame; only comprehension, safety and a whole lot of love.

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
